


one month of deathshipping

by Nerd_of_Camelot



Category: Yu-Gi-Oh! Duel Monsters (Anime & Manga)
Genre: All characters are 20 or older, Bakura Ryou Wearing Dresses, Birthday, Cuddling & Snuggling, Ficlet Collection, First Dates, First Kiss, Fluff, Fluff and Angst, Genderfluid Bakura Ryou, Genderfluid Character, Getting to Know Each Other, He/Him Pronouns For Bakura Ryou, Holding Hands, I'm Bad At Titles, M/M, Other Additional Tags to Be Added, Post-Canon, Prompt Fic, She/Her Pronouns For Bakura Ryou, Shorts, Strangers to Lovers, They/Them Pronouns For Bakura Ryou, Yamis Have Their Own Body, title may change
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-09-01
Updated: 2020-09-07
Packaged: 2021-03-06 15:01:35
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 7
Words: 3,625
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26280820
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Nerd_of_Camelot/pseuds/Nerd_of_Camelot
Summary: Updating roughly every day if possible, this is a series of interconnected Deathshipping oneshots being written this month and compiled into one fic for ease of access. Based on a list of self-shipping prompts I took a glance at and vibed with.--Yami Marik and Ryou's story together, one step at a time. Isn't love beautiful?
Relationships: Bakura Ryou/Yami Marik
Kudos: 9





	1. Embarrassed

Of the outcomes Ryou Bakura had expected in the years following Zorc’s defeat, this was not among them.

He was not, however, complaining.

Even if his cheeks were burning, heart pounding in his chest, eyes almost watering from the force of the embarrassment… He wasn’t complaining. He would take this, would take compliments and a sharp, wicked smile from someone he had no reason to trust and yet felt a connection to, over nearly any other possible outcome.

Marik’s darker half sat at his side, eyes glued to the phone that Kaiba hadn’t even had to be pressured to provide, brows knitted mildly together and teeth worrying at his lip. He had gotten the hang of using it a while ago, and yet still seemed thrown off by the device. Still seemed almost concerned by it. And Marik himself was off on the other side of Yugi’s living room, talking the Spirit― _ Bakura, _ Ryou reminded himself a little bitterly― _ , _ through using his.

And Ryou sat here, cheeks red and mouth set into a firm line, unsure of how to proceed, because the first thing that Marik’s darker half had done when testing the camera feature was look at him, lift the phone, and  _ snap a picture of him _ rather than anything else in the room.

Casting a glance around as if hoping for help (and wondering not for the first time how and why  _ he _ had been saddled with Marik’s darker half), he met Yugi’s sympathetic and somehow simultaneously amused gaze. The shorter male gave him a weak, though still reassuring, smile, then returned his attention to Atem, who thankfully seemed to have a full understanding already of most functions on the phone in his hand.

Ryou blew out a breath as slowly and quietly as he could, pulling in another in the same manner when it didn’t draw the other Marik’s attention.

Breathing under control a moment later and face no longer red, he returned his gaze to the other Marik, in case he had questions, and found him staring at him, head tilted, lilac eyes piercing.

“Questions?” He asked, maybe a little too flatly given that he couldn’t reasonably expect that the other Marik  _ knew better _ or assume that he had taken his picture out of some kind of misguided spite.

The other Marik blinked, almost surprised, and his cheeks colored a little as well. He shook his head, swiftly turning his attention back to his phone as if he hadn’t been looking at Ryou at all. And for a second Ryou felt bad―had he discouraged him by being so annoyed? He would need to work on that. Couldn’t go around flat-toning his way through life if he wanted anyone but Yugi to like him, after all, and he shouldn’t wrack up any more bad karma than he already had by being rude to people who didn’t deserve it.

But then, as the other Marik turned his screen back on and unlocked his phone, he felt his cheeks heat  _ remarkably fast _ at the sight of his lockscreen.

The other Marik had already changed it to the picture he’d taken of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'll be honest, initially I was going to write (privately) all 30 of the prompts I found the way they were intended - as self-shipping prompts. But then I thought, hey, I self-project hard enough onto Ryou as it is, and Deathshipping and Angstshipping are two of my OG ships, so since I was already going to write these with Yami Marik or just regular Marik anyway, I may as well do it with Deathshipping! And then I can post it without feeling sort of weird about it lmao


	2. Hand-Holding

Ryou did not so much dread his birthday as he simply didn’t look forward to it any more than he looked forward to any other day.

He hadn’t looked forward to his birthday since the year he’d gotten the Ring for a  _ lot _ of reasons, not all of which had something to do with the Ring but many of which certainly did, and he had simply come around to that being his truth as the years passed. His birthday wasn’t a special occasion, wasn’t anything to think about. The only thing that mattered was that he was a year older, so he was a year closer to being old enough to do x, y, z, or finally old enough to do a, b, c, you know?

Not that there was even a lot of importance in that, with the Ring and the Spirit around.

He’d learned to convincingly lie about his age to avoid getting into trouble for things the Spirit did  _ very _ early on, even when he wasn’t entirely aware of the Spirit’s presence.

So, basically, his birthday was unimportant to him, and only Yugi, now that he knew, did anything to celebrate it. He thankfully kept quiet about it at Ryou’s insistence, but that didn’t stop him from getting him a gift and making sure to either bake him something himself or buy him something sweet. Every year since all of that had ended, in fact, Yugi had been sure to do something for him on his birthday and Ryou really did his best to return the favor.

This year, this twenty-first birthday of his, wasn’t one he was looking forward to either. If not for the reason he usually wasn’t looking forward to it, then because this year had been… Different. The summer had started with Atem and the Spirit and the other Marik appearing, all completely unconscious, in Yugi’s living room. The summer had persisted and passed with Yugi and Atem happily falling into a comfortable romantic relationship, Marik taking the Spirit and fucking off somewhere else, and him having been saddled with the rehabilitation and watching of Marik’s darker half. Thankfully the other Marik required very little actual rehabilitation―being that he’d been a tainted defense mechanism most of what was required was giving him an outlet and then making sure to remind him on occasion that killing people for annoying him is frowned upon―and stuck so close all on his own that Ryou didn’t even really need to watch him.

So, yeah, no.

He wasn’t looking forward to his birthday for the same reasons as usual, but also because this year had been his weirdest in a while and he wasn’t eager to try and go through Yugi’s usual celebrations with Marik’s darker half―who by now had taken a page out of  _ Bakura’s _ book and started calling himself  _ Ishtar _ whether Marik liked it or not―at his side the entire time.

It was one thing to celebrate with Yugi.

It was another to celebrate with someone new, and especially someone who seemed weirdly fond of him despite them rarely talking.

But it was today.

“... Your birthday?” Ishtar asked, and Ryou nearly jumped and cursed, shoving his phone against his chest and glancing over his shoulder at him.

“... Yes.” He admitted, somewhat guarded.

Ishtar may have lived with him for three months now, and he may not have any fear at all for the one-time villain, but this was… Something else. To date the only people outside of his family who knew when his birthday was were the Spirit and Yugi. Now another person knew, and it was someone he really didn’t trust very much.

Liked, sure, but didn’t really trust.

How could he?

It had taken him the first six months after Zorc’s defeat to start  _ actually _ trusting  _ Yugi. _ He wasn’t just going to drop his guard now.

Ishtar regarded him for a moment, and he turned to face him, keeping his phone firmly against his chest. Ishtar didn’t apologize for peeking at his phone, and he didn’t expect him to―he knew he had likely seen it in passing, seeing as he was tall enough to look over Ryou’s shoulder even when he didn’t mean to.

“I had started to wonder when it was.” Ishtar finally said, then reached out to tuck a piece of Ryou’s hair behind his ear.

Ryou went very red, and Ishtar moved on, walking past him as if it hadn’t happened.

And later, when Yugi inevitably dropped by with Atem (but thankfully that meant only two additional people around for this), Ishtar was still acting as if nothing was out of the ordinary. Ryou appreciated that. Maybe he’d been obvious enough about his lack of interest in other people knowing that Ishtar was actively not celebrating or trying to celebrate? Or maybe Ishtar merely didn’t care.

Whatever the reason, Ryou was glad no one was making a big deal of it, but especially Ishtar.

Atem smiled at him as he and Yugi made to leave, wishing him a quiet happy birthday with a pat on his shoulder, and that was the only actual mention of what day it was that had been made the whole time.

When they were gone, though, Ishtar approached him.

Took his hand and all but dragged him (though gently) over to the couch. Sat down with him. Didn’t release his hand.

Just turned on the TV and held his hand while he found a show, and while the show played, and… And it was comfortable.

Face red, heart sort of fluttering at the contact, Ryou didn’t pull his hand away.

Squeezed, softly.

Ishtar’s lips twitched, and he squeezed back.

And slowly, _slowly,_ over the course of an episode, he traced out ‘H-A-P-P-Y-B-I-R-T-H-D-A-Y’ onto the back of Ryou’s hand. And Ryou felt himself smile, just a little.

He traced out, in return, ‘T-H-A-N-K-Y-O-U’.


	3. Kisses

Ryou wasn’t sure what his train of thought had been before it crashed somewhere a few miles shy of the station, nor was he sure that he actually cared at all.

He looked up at Ishtar through his lashes, taking in his flushed cheeks and wide eyes, committing it to memory. The Egyptian looked so lost and embarrassed, maybe even apologetic. Could Ryou afford to trust that? Could he let his guard down so easily? Could he chance that Ishtar was every bit the masterful manipulator that Marik was, that he was playing him for a fool?

And in that moment, Ryou decided yes.

Yes, he could.

And if it ended badly, well…

Ishtar wasn’t Zorc. He wasn’t even  _ close. _

Ryou would survive.

So he closed the distance between them again, slowly. Deliberately. Watched Isthar’s eyes widen a little. Felt his own cheeks still burning from the first kiss―the kiss that Ishtar had given him. Had stepped into his space and laid on his lips with a gentleness he’d come to associate with a man who had once been nothing short of unpredictable. He smiled, slightly. Watched Ishtar’s brows raise a little, hope lighting temporarily in his eyes.

Temporarily, because the next moment Ryou’s own eyes were sliding closed, and he was leaning up to press his lips against Ishtar’s.

It was a slow, hesitant thing. Very chaste.

But it still got Ryou’s heart racing like he’d just run a marathon.

And when he pulled away from this kiss, he raised hesitant hands to brush over Ishtar’s own enflamed cheeks, and Ishtar leaned into the touch like it was all he wanted in the world. Like even just the touch was settling him in a way nothing else could.

Ryou could live with that, if that was the case.

And they didn’t say anything―they spent the next several hours just trading soft, chaste kisses while they went about their business. And it was nice.

Ryou wondered… Was this what being in a relationship was like? Was there more to this than just kissing? Would there ever be?

He wondered if it mattered, in the end.


	4. Date

Jittery fingers gathered up his hair, pulling it up into a ponytail. Twisted it into a bun, secured it with an elastic band and then a small and shakily tied bow. Was the bow too much? Should he have left his hair alone?

He untied the bow and pulled both hair ties out and let his hair fall back around his shoulders. But it looked so  _ plain _ like this.

_ He seems to like your hair plain, _ A small voice in the back of his head reminded him,  _ You really think he’s going to care what you do with it? He’ll like it anyway. He likes  _ **_you._ **

And it was helpful, really, so he took a deep,  _ deep _ breath and pulled his fingers away from his hair. What did he  _ want _ to do with his hair? Ishtar was going to like it no matter what, and if he didn’t it wasn’t like it was the end of the world. Not to mention that him liking it was only necessary when Ryou wanted him to look only at him and he really,  _ really _ didn’t think that Ishtar would be looking at anyone else anyway.

Another deep breath.

He sectioned off a small bit of his hair and braided it, mirrored it on the other side. Tied them together in the center and left them be. Simple, but kept the peskiest pieces of his hair out of the way, and he liked the way that it looked. So that was settled.

Gods, okay.

Okay.

Now for clothes. He had plenty he could pull on that wouldn’t mess up his hair, but were any of them what he  _ wanted _ to wear? He knew which ones Ishtar liked, by now, more or less, because he knew which ones he’d caught Ishtar staring at him wearing the most in the months they’d known each other.

Again reminding himself that Ishtar wasn’t likely to have eyes on anyone else, he picked out a soft, pale blue dress and some striped thigh-high stockings and pulled them on.

He checked his reflection one last time.

He looked good. The stockings were a nice addition and really called attention to how long his legs were, and although he was still adamant that Ishtar would only be looking at him, he was rather partial to the idea of Ishtar staring at his legs. But maybe he was just being weird.

Whatever.

He pulled on some shoes that went well with the rest of the outfit and stepped out of his room. Ishtar would already be there, as Ryou had asked that he leave when he was ready and Ryou would catch up with him. Ishtar had agreed, given him a peck on the lips that still managed to make him blush even though they’d been trading kisses for  _ weeks… _ And he got ready and left.

Now, alone in his living room as he grabbed his keys, Ryou was once again struck by the reality of what was happening.

He was going on a  _ date. _

With  _ Ishtar. _

He caught himself grinning like an idiot, laughed in disbelief at how  _ soft _ and  _ unprepared _ Ishtar was able to leave him just by doing simple things like asking him on a date, and decided―not at all for the first time―that if Ishtar was playing a game here, he was going to play with just as much vigor.

Historically, Ryou didn’t lose very many games and when he did? It was usually because that was his plan.

If he lost this one, if he got too attached and Ishtar left him for whatever reason he would want to do that, then that was just life. But… Well.

The Spirit, and more specifically the piece of him that had been  _ Zorc, _ had left him with a distinct inability to leave defeats and sleights unavenged. Even if he lost whatever game Ishtar  _ might _ be playing, Ishtar wouldn’t get away with it. He would come back stronger the next time they encountered each other and he would make Ishtar’s life a hell.

Not that he was entirely convinced Ishtar was playing, it was just… Good practice to keep his mind open to the idea that he was.

He stepped out the door and sort of half-jogged his way to the restaurant that Ishtar had specified.

As soon as he arrived, Ishtar’s face lit up.

He felt his do the same in return.

“You look wonderful.” Ishtar said, as soon as he was within earshot, grinning at him and slightly pink in the cheeks.

Feeling his own cheeks turn red, Ryou grinned in response and sat down, “You’re looking rather dashing, yourself.”

Ishtar reached across the table to take his hand, and Ryou happily complied.


	5. Cuddles

An arm wrapped around him, and he leaned easily into the warm chest at his side. Nuzzled into Ishtar’s neck with a smile as the taller male tangled their legs together.

It was a cool night in mid-autumn, and they were covered up in an old knitted blanket on the couch. There was a movie playing on the TV, not that either of them were watching it. Ryou was… Very comfortable.

He cuddled in closer, squeezing Ishtar.

The larger just chuckled. Pressed a kiss to the top of his head.

And Ryou relaxed, falling asleep in mere moments.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I've actually never written a chapter less than 100 words long before, but there's a first time for everything lol
> 
> Making it longer just didn't feel right


	6. Sick Day

Ryou sneezed into a tissue, shuddering hard at the chill. He should have known better than to go out last week without a jacket,  _ ugh… _

He tossed the tissue into his trash can and tucked himself deeper into his covers. He  _ was _ supposed to try and get some work done today, but… It wasn’t happening. He’d gone and gotten a cold, and now he was stuck until it subsided enough for him to actually do some work. He wasn’t going to push it any harder than he had to. Even if it was just a head cold, there was no reason to push too hard. Rest was the quickest way to stop one.

Still.

It was miserable.

The fact that his left arm was giving him trouble for the millionth time didn’t make it any better, though admittedly it was  _ that _ that kept him in bed moreso than the cold itself. The cold he likely would have fought through, but a cold  _ and _ very little movement from his left bicep to the tips of his fingers? Not worth it.

To make things worse, Ishtar had been called away about two days ago to help Yugi and the others with something, so he wasn’t around to help at all. And, sure, on the one hand? That was probably for the best, because it meant Ishtar wasn’t catching a cold off of him. On the other, it meant he was lonely on top of already being miserable, and that was making him a little whiny.

He grumbled to himself, blowing his nose again and tossed that tissue as well.

The front door to the flat opened, and he perked up a little.

“Qalil Sahira,” Ishtar called, from the entryway, “I’m back, habibi.”

“Bedroom,” He called in return, aware he sounded stuffed-up and miserable.

Ishtar appeared in the doorway, brows drawn, and only looked more concerned when he caught sight of him. “Are you alright?”

“Just a cold,” He waved it off with his good hand, “I’ll be fine in a few days.”

“Can I get you anything?” Ishtar asked, then, “... Tea?”

“Tea would be lovely,” He felt himself smile, already feeling a little better, “Thanks, love.”

And when Ishtar returned with the tea, they laid in bed and he drank his tea and they watched dumb videos on the internet until Ryou’s poor, tired brain and body finally fell asleep.


	7. Sharing Clothes

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Note: Ryou is referred to exclusively by she/her pronouns in this chapter! Apologies for any confusion ^^

Ryou grabbed a shirt from the clean, though unfolded, pile of laundry at random, pulling it over her head and realizing only once she’d finished doing so that it was too big on her. She furrowed her brows for only a moment, cheeks heating when she realized she’d pulled on one of Ishtar’s shirts. One of his rather sparse sweaters, actually―a fact that quickly had her giggling. Still blushing, but not feeling particularly inspired to take it off, she let the sleeves fall over her hands and hugged herself.

The sweater was, frankly, _huge_ on her.

Ishtar wasn’t a lot taller, but he was broader and he’d started bulking up in recent months as a result of spending much of his time working out in order to try and channel his more violent tendencies into something productive, so the sweater fell to mid-thigh and there was a good couple of inches of sleeve falling past her fingertips, not to mention that the whole thing was baggy. She grinned a little, deciding to forego pants for now because, really? She didn’t feel the need for any.

Ishtar would be returning from the gym any time, and Ryou was feeling a little mischievous. Even if it just got him to blush, that would be enough for her!

She got comfortable on the couch, and when he finally returned home from whatever he’d been pulled into by Atem and Bakura this time, she found he’d also ended up one of her shirts instead of one of his own. She could tell it was one of hers because it stretched tightly over his chest in a way none of his did, and he didn’t own any blue tank tops.

He shot her a grin, cheeks reddening when he saw she wasn’t wearing any pants, but he seemed undeterred.

“Hello there, habibi.”

“Hi, love,” She bounced up off the couch to hug him, and he hugged back happily.

This was by no means the first time they’d unknowingly ended up wearing each other’s clothes, but it was still a sort of giggly feeling regardless. It made her giddy to wear his clothes, and he seemed very satisfied by wearing hers or seeing her wearing his.

“Thief wouldn’t stop staring at me like I’d grown a second head,” Ishtar complained, lightly, “It’s like he forgets we’re dating.”

“He realized it was my shirt?” Ryou asked, raising a brow, “Why’s he looking so closely, anyway?”

“That’s what I’d like to know,” Ishtar snorted, kissing her hair.

Ryou giggled, a joke bubbling up. “Damn him. First he steals eight years of my life, then he tries to steal my boyfriend…”

Ishtar laughed in return, shaking his head.

“Well,” He began after a moment, “What do you intend to do about it, habibi? Surely you’ll not let such a sleight slide.”

Both of them descended into laughter again.


End file.
